


The Psychology of the Individual

by orphan_account



Category: Jeeves - Wodehouse
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-10
Updated: 2009-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He searches for patterns in his own behaviour, analyzes them, discards what is useless and adds skills and mannerisms that are of use. He enjoys being a valet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Psychology of the Individual

He searches for patterns in his own behaviour, analyzes them, discards what is useless and adds skills and mannerisms that are of use. He used to do this for one vigorous week of self-conditioning whenever he took on a new persona, but of course recently he has had only one persona, save perhaps for a temporary re-assumption of an old character, for the purposes of a game or a solution.

He enjoys being a valet.

He still checks up on himself, and checks himself, on occasion, in small ways. He keeps creating lines and parameters in which Reginald Jeeves must move, and which he must not violate, and regulates even the thrill it gives him to fold Mr Wooster's towels, the beating of his heart when straightening Mr Wooster's tie.

Sometime he wonders if he could erase this persona as efficiently as the others, and if, if he did, he would still be in love with Mr Wooster.

He considers many aspects, lines of thought and causal links leading to twelve, fifteen different resolutions.

But no. He enjoys being a valet. He enjoys making Mr Wooster's breakfast, playing with Mr Wooster's life, of watching that grateful look blossom in his proud, innocent, unspoiled eyes. The eyes of an Old Etonian, a life Reginald Jeeves has hardly ever worn. (Sometimes he thinks about why that is.)

Sometimes Mr Wooster reminds him of the letters from his father, which his mother kept in a jar on the top shelf in the kitchen, and he thinks about how this might be one of the reasons for his fascination. His father had been an innocent man, innocently in love with the kitchen maid, long before such modern matches were ever possible. His father had died young. Perhaps this explains another thing or two, also.

He even regulates his dreams at night, so it's hardly ever, now, that they tell him the truth.


End file.
